Personal notice, changes my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle,
you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Standard Oil Company of California,
on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West,
invite you to Let George Do It! Opportunity knocks twice, another adventure of George Valentine.
No, no, no, I want to speak to Mr. Valentine. I told you this is Claire Brooks,
his assistant. It's terribly important. I don't know what to do. If I could only...
Hey, what's going on, Angel? Take the other phone, George.
Assistant? What do you mean, his assistant? What kind of a man is Mr. Valentine? I think
I got his name. Hello? Oh, thank heaven. There you are. Yeah, this is Valentine. I got your
name from his pocket, you see. It was a note. I'm sure he intended to call you. He doesn't
have any other friends in town, so I didn't know who to turn to. Who are you talking about
and who is this? Miss Greta Jenkins, George. She's the housekeeper at the Abelmerton house.
Oh, okay, Miss Jenkins. And you're talking about Mr. Abelmerton? No, no, you don't understand.
It's his nephew, young Larry. Oh, what's wrong with this Larry? What happened to him? I can't
do anything with him. He's sick. He went out and he drank, and he always used to drink
and run about, you know. His uncle could never stop him. He's sick? Well, look, lady, have
you called a doctor? No, he won't let me. Well, do it anyway. This isn't Alcoholics Anonymous,
just because he had my name in his pocket. Mr. Valentine, if I leave him alone for one
minute, I'm afraid he'll kill himself. Why? That's the trouble. I think that's what he
tried to do tonight, take his own life. So please, please, won't you? For sure, sure,
Miss Jenkins. We'll be right out. I've got the address, George. Only where's this uncle,
Abelmerton? You'd better... Oh, no, Mr. Valentine, I'm all alone. Mr. Merton's gone. Gone? He
killed himself yesterday. I'm all right. I'm all right. Leave me alone, will you? Here's
another cup of coffee, George. Oh, cut it out. You want to keep me awake for three years?
It's better than putting yourself to sleep, like me. I didn't try to do that. She's crazy.
I am not. You kept saying you didn't care whether you lived or not. You kept saying...
Turn it off, will you? Mr. Valentine, he would have killed himself, just like his uncle did.
And when I found your name, I thought you knowing him and all...
Miss Jenkins, get it straight, will you? We've never met in our lives.
What? That's right, worry ward. Valentine's a detective.
Detective? Sure, you don't think I ever set out to make
friends with one, do you? Bad penny, that's me, Valentine.
Well, why did you want him then? What was his name doing in your...
Miss Jenkins? Would you leave us alone with him for a few minutes?
No, I won't. He's my responsibility now, and he's Uncle Gawd.
I'm sorry, lady. Whether you like detectives or not, you asked for it. You've got one now,
so thanks. She worries all the time. I used to live here,
you know, until five or six years ago. Did I give her a bad time?
Just what was my name doing in your pocket, kid? Thought of hiring you this afternoon,
I saw. You see, my uncle and me, we're each other's
only relative. He's a widower, no kids, practically raised me.
We were... I'm a larky. Now go on, Larry. That's your Uncle Abel, Abel
Merton, and he committed suicide yesterday, is that right?
He was murdered. That's all? Who murdered him?
Well, I did, naturally. I'm no good, you know. He booted me out of his house five years ago,
and I've always wanted to get my hands on his money.
The Merton Styles Company's a pretty rich outfit, you know. Sure, me.
Okay, you're under arrest. Happy? Mr. Valentine, I'm all mixed up, sure.
I just got back to town a few days ago. I've changed a little in those five years
I've been away. I... Well, I used to make him so unhappy, but now it was going to be different.
He was such a wonderful guy. Larry, did you act the way you did tonight
because you couldn't face the idea that you're his only family, and you made him unhappy,
and you might have been the cause? Oh, no, things were different, I told you.
We were going to get along swell. But I mean, why would he kill himself right
then? I can't believe he did. Okay, I understand.
Maybe I just wanted to wake people up. I tell you, some people in the world are so
stupid that... What people? And who says Merton's death was
a suicide instead of murder? What happened? Mr. Valentine, I've never been so frustrated
and mad in my life. You want to know what made me go out and drink
again, call you, blow my top and cry on my beer? Well, I'll tell you, in two stupid words,
have you ever met a cop by the name of Lieutenant Johnson?
All right, all right, sure me, dumb old cop me. Well, listen to me, will you? There hasn't
even been a coroner's inquest yet. But then, Lieutenant Johnson, what makes
the boy think that... Somebody talked who shouldn't have, I don't
know, that Larry found out what the police recommendation is going to be that's only
blew his top. But the police believe suicide, you'll admit
that? So don't beat around the bush, Johnson. You told the crew...
Look, great heart, I feel sorry for him too. But don't bark at me like I didn't know what
I was doing. Lieutenant...
Because I don't. Ha! Said it before you could. You want to hear the facts or don't you?
I was only going to say that from what we could find out about Abel Merton, well, he
was such a straight-laced and stern sort of man, he just doesn't seem like the kind who
would have killed himself. Mm, plurimorality, I know. I suppose that's
the way the boy saw him, because it was so different himself. They had a reunion, so
Larry thinks that was the most important thing to the old man. But maybe that's why Merton
did it. Oh, clear it up, will you? Let's have those
facts. Abel Merton always yelled at the kid to straighten
himself out, and he finally did. What I meant just now was, well, maybe seeing the boy different
made Merton look at himself a little closer. To see what?
Merton was alone in the house night before last, nephew and housekeeper both out. She
testifies he'd been worried, upset for several weeks. Then, that night, he said he had a
headache, wanted to be alone, practically snapped her head off.
Grooting, unhappy, sick-looking. No, well, we didn't talk to her much.
Of course you didn't. Facts, death, about ten o'clock in his own study with his own
gun. Merton had a-
Yes, the revolver he took from his own desk. Fingerprints, powder burns, the works, all
checked. Ah, well, a typical suicide so far, but-
As he put it, you can only mess up your life so much.
Hmm? In the note he left. Think we go off half cocked
like you do? Here. As farewell to Larry, look.
Let's see. When a man messes up his life, there comes a point when it is impossible to
salvage it. I know you'll understand what I mean, Larry. I'm doing what I have to do.
This must be the end. Goodbye and good luck, Abel Merton.
Mm-hmm. The signature looks a little-
No, that's the way he always signed it. Want to say he didn't really write the suicide
note himself? Well, don't embarrass yourself. For once, the experts all agree.
But mess up his life, how could a man like that-
Oh, and don't argue until you've heard all the facts. Come on, come on, I got a man still
working over in his office. His office?
Not the type to kill himself. I'll show you how wrong you can be.
How do you do, Miss Brooks? Hello, Mr. Stiles.
Stiles, huh? You're the other half of this company.
Yes. Abel ran it, though. Sharpest investment man in the business.
Yeah, through here, Valentine. Merton kept his own private office. I mean completely
private. The sanctum sanctorum wouldn't even give dictation in here.
I told you before, Lieutenant. Abel couldn't think clearly unless he could get away someplace,
lock himself up. That doesn't mean that all his life he kept secrets.
Says you, says he. Didn't even let you in, did he?
Now, all right, all right. You're getting your facts. What more do you want? I thought
you were all through messing. Oh, now, now, now, take it easy, friend.
Just want to check my man here. I'm sorry, no sleep. We've been up all night.
How's it coming, Joe? Hello, Lieutenant. Sixty-three, one, seven,
five so far. So far, so far. There's nothing beyond the
past month, I'm sure of it. I've checked myself.
You want to bet it goes back for years? It does not. We've had certified audits.
What are you trying to do, wreck the name of the company completely? We've got stockholders,
you know. This isn't just— I think he's right, Lieutenant. There
isn't anything earlier or to have shown up on the books outside. But in Merton's private
books— Hold it, hold it, all of you. What a—
Sure, Joe, we've got to explain all this to Mr. Valentine or he'll be very unhappy.
Oh, well, you see, there's sixty-three thousand dollars.
Sure, embezzlement. Tell everybody. Merton had no reason to kill himself, eh,
Valentine? This morning, this is the first thing we look
at, I pretend to. How would you go about salvaging your life if you'd embezzled sixty-three thousand
dollars? Hold it, will you? I've got Larry Merton on
the phone. All right, Larry. Well, take it easy, will you? So maybe it doesn't make sense.
I'm just telling you the facts. Yeah, yeah, maybe he wasn't that kind of a guy.
Now, wait a minute. Hold it, Larry.
Match cover. Here, look. It was under the edge of the rug.
Let's see. Well, it was behind his desk. It must be
Mr. Merton's. You said nobody else ever came in here.
Yes, that's right. What's that stuff written on it?
That's what I mean, scribbled in pictures. Yeah, it doesn't look like his handwriting,
though. Lieutenant, I thought you went over this place
inch by inch. Listen, flycatcher, M-E-J, which is dream?
What? Sounds like pig-glassing.
Oh, for the love of my lieutenant, I'm worn out. Can't we just-
If a man embezzles, he has to have a reason for it, doesn't he?
Will you be quiet a second, all of you? Hello, Larry.
Listen, did your uncle ever bet on the horses? That's what they are, of course, flycatcher,
M-E-J. All right, all right, all right.
What's the matter with him? He says no. What does he think?
He also says if I can't prove it was murder, he'll hire somebody who can.
A real upset boy, that. Mr. Stiles. Mr. Stiles.
Larry. He's all right. Just fainted, that's all.
We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment.
Listen to the difference. Yes, now you can actually hear authentic scientific
proof of the difference between URPM motor oil and premium type motor oils, as designated
by the American Petroleum Institute. Auto engines are equipped with irradiated piston
rings, and during operation, minute particles of radioactive metal wear off the rings.
Geiger counters are thus able to detect the amount of wear actually taking place.
Listen now as the Geiger counters click off the difference.
First, the low wear rate of the new RPM. Now, the much faster wear rate of the conventional
oil. Now, new RPM again.
You have just heard authentic scientific proof that new RPM motor oil cuts in half the wear
rate of critical engine parts, doubles the life of the average auto engines between major
overhauls due to lubrication. Proved in the laboratory and checked out in
severe road service, new RPM motor oil is sold with a money back guarantee of satisfaction.
Ask for it at standard stations and independent Chevron gas stations where they say and mean,
we take better care of your car.
And now, back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine.
Opportunity knocks twice, but so far if your name is George Valentine, you've seen very
little of opportunity. Abel Merton committed suicide, that's what the police said, but
his nephew refuses to believe it, still thinks it must have been murder.
The only trouble is, how are you going to explain all the evidence? Suicide note, technical
testimony, motive, everything. Well, perhaps you realize that you're not going to explain,
and so instead you question why Merton's partner, Mr. Stiles, should happen to faint.
Because I'm worn out, that's why, up all night trying to figure those books out for
the police here. Didn't Merton always keep a private set of
books? Of course he did, yes, yes, yes.
We've been through all that, Valentine. Look, Johnson, I just want to understand this
case. I fainted, yes. I'm surprised I didn't do
it sooner. You know what it's like to be waked up at midnight to be told your partner killed
himself? To get rousted down here the next morning with a police accountant to pry into
something you know is silly until you find it's not.
To find your partner of 20 years has suddenly switched in the last month into a man who
dipped into $63,000. Okay, Mr. Stiles, okay, never mind, thank
you. Come on, Brooks. Hey, wait a minute, where are you going?
The Sportsman's Cafe, distinguished cuisine, no television, no more, you can be reality,
drinks cheap, booze for lady. George.
The match cover, Angel, one with the names of ponies scribbled on it.
Abel didn't bet on horses. At least I don't think he did.
I don't know anything anymore. Somebody at this place he seemed to visit might
know. Not Merton's handwriting, not Stiles' handwriting,
not Larry's. So somebody else must have dropped it while
in the scene, Merton, here, that's all. Come here, Johnson.
Look, you really want me to quit? Valentine, just do me one favor, will you?
Sure. Just don't find anything more to make me
right about the things I know are wrong. You think I believe in this case?
Okay, friend, it's a long shot, but maybe this time I'll prove it's murder.
Help you? How can I help you, Mr. Valentine? By being honest, Miss Jenkins, no matter whose
reputation you'd like to protect. Mr. Merton was no embezzler.
I don't care what anybody says or what evidence they dig.
All right, all right, Miss Jenkins, just take it easy.
Oh, was Mr. Merton in the habit of visiting cocktail bars?
No, indeed. He left that to his nephew. Well, tell me, did Mr. Merton bet on horses?
Young man, I'm not going to listen to any more libel of one of the finest men I've known.
If you'll begin to talk some sense, I'll be more than willing to cooperate.
But not? Where are you going, Mr. Valentine?
Uh-uh, no, no. This is going to be my little secret. Come on, Brooksie.
Oh, believe me, I wish I could be of more assistance, Mr. Valentine.
You're the type I'd like to help. I can imagine.
I can imagine you imagining, dearie, but I ain't got that class of mind.
Oh, heaven, that is. Okay, lady, but the manager says you were
around here five nights ago. The name is Lucy.
It's always been my understanding the word lady is reserved for the ones that aren't,
if you follow me. Hey, would you get that chip off your shoulder?
We only want to find out. Besides, how'd you know this gentleman was here
five nights ago? Because I just checked the newspaper to find
out when certain horses were running. It seems it was four days ago, so I assume the
guy who was thinking of betting on them was in here the night before.
And I'm the kind of girl who'd know every man who comes in the place.
Well, yes. Go on, hit me.
What are you asking all these questions for? Oh, now, look, Lucy, we...
Let me see that thing, will you? Come on, come on.
A match cover? Yeah.
Sure. There you are, see?
Hmm. You know, people should use lighter. Look, Mr. The Boss is waving at me. Couldn't
you come back some other... The names of the horses are written in brown
pencil. And you made the clever observation nobody
uses brown pencil. Your boss made it for us.
Oh. Well, not one of them horses won. Did you know that?
No. Eyebrow pencil.
Well, why do you beat around the bush with me? Of course I wrote it. Sure. Sure, a blonde
with an eyebrow pencil. So the boss told you already. So you're real deductive.
Uh-huh. You wrote this yourself. So now will you sit down and have a drink with us?
Oh, look, Mr. Valentine, once in a blue lifetime, like, well, maybe every three or four days,
an opportunity knocks. A guy comes in, wants to be cordial. So I express my interest in
horses. So I write down some choices, see? And if he's real nice, he puts up the bets
for me. Five bucks on the nose, maybe, or... Well, what's the matter? So I don't remember
who it was. Oh, yes, you do, sister. Come on, cut the
stalling. Let go of me. I don't.
Maybe you'll maybe later want to visit a stuff shirt named Merton, as you say.
George, I want to come. Why should I remember? Why should I get mixed up in all this?
Hey, hey there. You stay out of it, friend.
Give him a piece of your mind. This guy's crazy.
Relax, will you? I've been waving at you. You're blind or something, Lucy. You left your
coat across the room. Coat? This coat?
Sure. Just brought it over so it wouldn't be stole, that's all.
Coat? I told you all I know. And I'm getting out of here.
No, you don't. And this is the last time I'm going to... Hey, easy.
Lucy, look. All you want to know is... I don't want to get mixed up in things.
A mink coat. And you didn't want us to see it. Why?
Yes. He gave it to me just the other day, but I didn't know where he got the money, honest.
I didn't. Who are you talking about? Who got what money?
Oh, you. Who do you think? How is... I don't know. You've got to kill him.
You mean Mr... Yeah, yeah, Abel Merton. Well, what's the matter with you? Don't you
believe he was the kind of a man who would have a girlfriend like me?
The pillar of morality. Look, Johnson, look. So you tried to prove a man didn't have the
reason for his suicide, and what do you get? More and more evidence. He embezzled. He played
the horses. Now he had a date. And probably taken them for everything he had. I tell you,
all you do is get it deep and run deep. And I'll still make it murder. Now for the
last time, just do what I tell you. George, George, the parking man brought our
car around the front, if you and Lucy... Lucy, where is she, George? George!
I'm all right, Brooksie. All right. Oh, sure. Your head is still on your shoulders.
But how do you know she was the one hit you, Mr. Bellister?
I told you her boss practically saw it. Here we are. That's the place where he...
Yeah, it drives her on the other side. Pretty lush apartment, huh?
I started talking murder to Johnson. I guess that's what did it. She took a swing with
a shoe and ran. He got a general alarm out, he said. I mean,
Lieutenant Johnson. He thinks... Sure, sure, Angel. I used to think too. Say,
look, run in and ask at the desk, will you? All right, George. Just see if Mr. Stiles
left any message. Check. Right.
Not at the office. He didn't answer his phone here. He must have...
Step on it, will you? I don't understand why that girl Lucy would
have told you that story of hers. I mean, almost willingly. And then suddenly she takes
a shoe and... Look, kid, look. A lot of things didn't make
sense. Neither did you at first. I didn't believe you.
What? Well, I mean, I didn't believe my uncle was
a pillar of morality, you know. Too much evidence the other way?
But I believe everything now. Yeah, sometimes I wise up and start believing
the obvious. And then I realize how simple a crime can be.
George! Outside! General Miffle!
Hey, that's his car right there. Stiles. Hey, Stiles, wait!
Look out, Valentine! Crazy!
Hey, slide over, kid. What about Miss Brooks? She's back there.
Just hang on to your hat. See anybody with him? See the girl?
I don't know. She went by so fast. I thought she was going to hit you.
Meeting her someplace, maybe. Ditching her someplace, maybe. Let her run for herself.
Who knows? He's heading up the back street. You can
turn here... I know a better way. Cut him off. That's what
you mean, isn't it? Yeah.
He's the only guy who could have done the embezzling, isn't he?
Get at those books to fix him up? I mean, besides your uncle.
I guess so, but I don't understand about the girl.
Able Merton was a nice guy. You told me so. He wouldn't get mixed up with a little opportunist
like that. But she knew my name. Now how? Unless somebody
had given her a fast call. And who knew I was heading in her direction
except Stiles? I mean, she's really his... his...
Sure. Stiles paid for the mink. That's why he took that money, I suppose.
She was just putting on an act for me, what he told her to say.
And it might have stuck if they hadn't got cold feet.
But now, running away is a pretty good confession of murder.
Yeah. It sure is. I told you that a long time ago, too.
Hey, wasn't it? Take it easy.
We'll wait for them here, if they cut back to the highway.
Only, I wonder what made them run. Huh?
Well, suppose Stiles is an opportunist, too. Suppose he saw the perfect chance to steal
some money and get away with it. All he had to do was fix a few books in a
hurry, tell his grasping girlfriend to play along with a gag about being a friend of Merton's.
But then tonight, everything backfired. I'm sorry. I don't get you.
I repeat. What made them run?
What? The word murder, wasn't it?
A word they never expected to hear. That scared the daylights out of both of them.
Yeah. You know, they ought to be coming along any second.
Oh, yeah. Sure, sure. Unless they're on the road to Mexico by now, but who cares?
Because you're the biggest fool of all. You tried to make opportunity, not twice.
Not twice? Well, a bad penny, that's what you said you
were. But it takes a lead slug to press your luck as much as you have.
You're crazy. That guy in that car, he ran. Sure he did. He stole the money. Perfect opportunity
when he was phoned up at midnight and told his partner committed suicide, wasn't it?
That's what the girl thought, too. Everybody thought so.
Except me. And me. For a while, that suicide note bothered
me. I didn't see how anybody could have framed that until I realized that nobody could have.
Except you. Very smart. I hired the right man, didn't I?
You want to hear the rest of my report? Suppose the sour apple nephew, that's you, came back
to his uncle after five years. Only instead of open arms, he got the booty
deserved from an uncle who was all upset over having to tell him to get out.
So your uncle wrote you. When a man messes up his life, there comes a point when it's
impossible to salvage it. I know you understand what I mean, Larry. I'm doing what I have
to do. This must be the end. Goodbye, signed Abel Merton.
Sure, very funny, isn't it? Made a perfect suicide note.
So you killed him and framed the rest of his death and used the note for just that.
But I guess you knew it wouldn't stick, not forever. So when sucker Stiles capitalized
on the death, you started pointing and yelling at him.
He would have stuck if you'd believed it. They're running, they might get away. Don't
you understand yet? You were a test case. Sure, the police think Stiles and Lucy did
it now. I wanted a detective near me. They didn't
know what was going on. So all that's left now is to kill me. Get
rid of the one guy who figured it. Yeah.
Okay, do it. I will. Start the motor again.
I can't. The key's bent.
Give me that. Take it easy with that gun. You can probably
straighten the key in 10 to 15 minutes. Shut up.
I'm going to kill you anyway. Okay. Only before you pull that trigger, think
of the noise and look where you are. Huh?
Yeah. Precinct 37, I think it says. Maybe it's 39. I'm not sure.
You might ask the cop on the curb. Police station?
Sure. You want to go inside? There's a lot of opportunity there for a young man.
He was crazy. Why? Why? Why?
You just said it. He was a little crazy. But if he'd left well enough alone after
Lieutenant Johnson said it was suicide. Well, he couldn't resist the second opportunity.
So he told us he wanted to get his hands in the whole Merton Styles company.
With Styles on the run, he would have moved right in.
Oh, but George. I know. I know. Crazy. That's what murder always
is. He gambled on double or nothing. They always gamble, even though there's no chance
of winning. Far cry from you, isn't it?
I was just thinking. You could never be a murderer then, I guess.
Thanks for the compliment. That's all right. What I meant was, well, knowing
you, darling, I guess there's no opportunity that you couldn't resist.
Listen to the difference. In a few seconds you will hear Geiger counters measuring automobile
engine wear. The engines are equipped with irradiated piston
rings which make it possible for the Geiger counters to detect wear as it occurs.
You will hear authentic scientific proof that new RPM motor oil cuts in half the wear rate
of critical engine parts. Doubles the life of the average auto engine
between major overhauls due to lubrication. First, let's listen to the Geiger counters
slowly click off the low wear rate of new RPM. Now the much faster wear rate of a premium
type oil is designated by the American Petroleum Institute.
Now new RPM again. You have just heard Geiger counters clicking
off the scientific proof that new RPM motor oil is years ahead.
Yes, years ahead. New RPM doubles engine life between major overhauls due to lubrication.
Try it. Sold with a money back guarantee of satisfaction at independent Chevron gas stations
and standard stations where they say and mean we take better care of your car.
Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard Oil Company
of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout
the West. Robert Bailey is starred as George with Virginia
Gregg as Brooksy. Let George Do It is written by David Victor
and Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. Ken Christie is Lieutenant Johnson.
Francis X Bushman was heard as Stiles. Harry Bartel is Larry.
Noreen DeMille is Greta. And Gigi Pearson is Lucy.
The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heaston.
And again next week, same time, same station to Let George Do It.
This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.